


Wait It Out

by LightDescending



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightDescending/pseuds/LightDescending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thunderstorms and Freddy Newandyke don't mix well. The alternative is staying over with Mr. White in his hotel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait It Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starfoozle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfoozle/gifts).



“It’s still pissing rain.”

“Mm. Hand me another match.”

White lights it with a scrape and a hiss and Freddy watches his features emerge in sharper relief, from black silhouette to an eerie mask. His eyes glitter darkly and he cups the flame in one hand. It does make Freddy feel better being able to see. When they started working through the complimentary hotel matchbook White cracked a joke or two about how they had to be careful, how burning this place down’d be satisfying as hell, a dump like this, but that it’d probably release some sorta noxious cloud over L.A. and he didn’t wanna take the rap for that. Besides, polyester bedspreads like these, they’d just melt. Freddy’d made an effort to laugh even if it came out more a weak chuckle.

The power went out about an hour ago and there’s not much to be seen out the window of White’s room – just torrential sheets of rain, distant coppery smudges of streetlamps. From time to time a flashbulb of lightning goes off, followed almost instantly by a thunderclap loud enough it seems to shake the drywall. The storm’s directly over them. Wind shrieks and scrapes and claws and shakes raindrops in angry spatters across the window. The curtains are drawn most of the way across, making a box of dim bluish lighting across the shitty carpet. They’ve got no candles or anything here, nada, zip; meanwhile Freddy’s got a full drawer of shit for freak Act of God scenarios like this fully stocked at home. But that’s a twenty minute drive away, and he knows White’s windshield wipers ain’t good for shit. And even if Freddy _could_ call a cabbie to come get him, he’s not sure the guy’d survive the trip. Does he wanna be responsible for an accidental drowning? Hell no.

He draws his knees in closer to his chest where he’s sitting; the mattress creaks beneath him at the motion. The comforter is drawn around him and bunches up in massive folds around his neck and shoulders, puddles over his chest and under his feet in massive heaps. He fuckin’ hates storms. No, that’s not what’s going on here, not entirely – he’s pissed at himself for getting holed up here with White when he knows damn well he should be at home. He’s still buzzed, not from the beers from earlier but ‘cause of what came after, but even though he wants nothing more than to sleep there’s an anxiety drum in his head to the tune of the grumble and roar outside. What if Holdaway calls in the morning and he’s not there to pick up? What if the power didn’t go out on his part of the grid… like, he’s got no way of knowing, so could he use that as a reasonable excuse? He doesn’t go out. That’s not his deal. How’s he gonna explain his absence?

“Hey.”

White’s calm voice slices through some jumbled bleary thoughts about how glad he was they showered _before_ the fuse box went on the fritz. Light enough to clean off and towel down and kiss by, Freddy all giddy and satisfied before walking back into the main room to see the sky’d split open and released the waters above the fucking firmament.

“Wha?”

“You doin’ okay, kid?”

White holds the guttering flame up between the two of them a little. Freddy’s eyes flicker back and forth between White’s steady scrutinizing gaze and the massive peonies screen-printed on the cheap duvet he’s huddled in.

“M’fine. I just… fucking thunderstorms, y’know? Where’s an Ark when y’need one.” He laughs but it seems as unsteady as the match does, burning down towards White’s fingertips. White looks at him a second or two longer, then the little circle of light trails through the darkness. White shakes the flame out with a quick one-two snap of his wrist and puts the charred stick in with the others of its kind in the ashtray sitting on the bedside.

“C’mere.”

“Huh?”

“I said c’mere.” Freddy feels a tug against the part of the comforter that’s enveloping his arm, and almost reluctantly follows it. He can hardly see shit, much less… oh. White’s got his arms open and waiting for Freddy to lean in.

He lets the older guy gently disentangle him. He’s tense. Still curled up into a ball like he’s in fifth fucking grade again and the basement’s flooding, already 3 inches he's splashed into up to his ankles before clawing his way back upstairs, and all he can think about is how it'll gurgle into every crevice of their house, all the pockets of air gradually filling with dark water, and his mom’s still at her night-shift and he’s alone and losing his shit.

By then White is going by feel, warm dry calloused hands placing themselves carefully on his shoulders. His arms. Mapping out where Freddy is in the black of the room before drawing him backwards, gentle and firm and precise, until Freddy’s leaning against White’s broad chest and is hemmed on either side by his outstretched legs. Only then does White fold them both up in the comforter again, left arm over right. An envelope of warmth.

“It’s too late to go home.” White rumbles around him, closer than the storm. “We’re just gonna ride this one out, alright? Getcha home in the morning.”

“But-“

A warning but gentle squeeze. “No buts about it. I’ve seen you staring outside for the last half-fuckin’-hour; I know. Just relax. It’s safer in here.”

Safer with the convict. The fuckin’ career criminal. Freddy could laugh but instead he just nods, then lets out a surprised rush of air when White puts his fingers in Freddy’s hair and starts to run them backwards over his scalp. He sags and White catches him up a little closer.

Yeah, Freddy thinks. The longer he’s here the more he relaxes. Safer. The next time there’s a crack of thunder the window shudders in its pane and the room lights up like an x-ray, but Freddy’s already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was initially posted on tumblr as a gift drabble for starfoozle :) It was also initially 1000 words exactly, but I kinda shuffled some things so now it may no longer be that way. Anyways. I owe most of the inspiration for this fic to Delphi and their work "Already Gone" (and actually I need to credit the first line to them directly). I like it enough that I wanna post it here.


End file.
